


written on the stars

by ivorykeys09



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Married Life, Post wedding scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorykeys09/pseuds/ivorykeys09
Summary: Before Felicity can get started on Agenda: Married Sex, there are a few things they need to talk about.All fluff, no angst. :)





	written on the stars

**Author's Note:**

> The promo pics for next week's episode inspired this one...but the plot doesn't come into play here. It's my own take on their wedding night, after the family and friends ceremony/reception.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I obvs don't own Arrow, the characters, etc.

A diamond ring has adorned her finger before—during those short few months they were engaged—but _this_ ring feels different. _This_ ring makes something shift inside her that she can’t yet name or identify; but what Felicity does know, is that the weight is deeper, more significant, and much, much more distracting. Which is funny, she thinks as she admires her hand, considering there’s a _lot_ less sparkle. There are still diamonds, but its elegant design is much more reserved and understated than the Dearden engagement ring. The white gold band matches what Oliver’s is made of, only her ring has diamonds embedded all around.

It’s gorgeous, and the second he’d put it on her finger, she'd known she loved this one a lot more than the first.

Oliver has always said her brain is her superpower, but to her, it’s her hands that are her weapon. They hack and code and type, and the other ring—while _so so_ beautiful and meaningful in its own way—was...just...a _little_ much? It was _just_ shy of being a bit too flashy and the large diamond in the center was so heavy, it always spun around on her finger at the most annoying, inopportune times while she typed.

Before the ceremony with their friends and family, they hadn’t really talked about her other engagement ring. They’d just wordlessly decided on only exchanging bands, and she’s so, so happy with that decision.

The truth is: she needs one ring. One band, just like him, to signify they belong to each other.

She wiggles her fingers and the diamonds catch the soft stream of light coming from the moon outside. “I can’t stop staring at it,” she whispers, voice still awed at the fact that it’s even _there._

“I know,” he says, sounding just as struck, holding up his ring-adorned hand next to hers. He turns to face her. “And the fact that you’re my _wife._ ”

She hums happily, dropping her hand to twist towards him in the bed. It’s enormous, and yet they are barely taking up a third of the space. Even though they were dying to leave the reception, get to the hotel suite and claw each other's clothes off, they’d instead just ended up falling on the bed, reminiscing about all the small, beautiful moments of their perfect, perfect day.

(There were too many wonderful memories, they couldn’t even decide on their favorite part.)

But it’s dumb, really, that she’s still in her dress and he’s still in his tux. They should be two, maybe _three_ orgasms deep at this point, and so they should definitely get started on that.

Well...not _just_ yet.

“I’m your _wife,_ ” she whispers back, kissing him soundly and then pulling away after a moment. “And you’re my _husband._ ” Just saying it gives her a thrill.

Her husband too, apparently, because he barely holds back what can only be described as a whimper, as he captures her lips again. His hands cling to her back to pull her even closer, fiddling with the many buttons down her spine, and the desperation in his movements makes heat flood to her core.

Thea and her mother had kindly offered to stay with William for the evening, for some long overdue aunt and grandmother bonding time, so it’s just them. _All night._ She’s so grateful that they have time to _take_ their time, so she forges ahead with her plan.

“Okay. Let’s chat logistics,” she mumbles against his lips, which quickly turns to a laugh when he lets out an impatient groan.

He barely pulls his mouth off of hers. “That is the least sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

She rolls her eyes endearingly, kissing him a few more times before pushing him away. “I’m serious,” she laughs, eyes shimmering mischievously at her next thought: “Happy wife, happy life, remember?” she teases, because she can't help herself. Quite honestly, she actually hates the phrase, but she’s never been able to use it.

Until now.

“That’s not fair,” he answers, kissing her again, seemingly unable to stop. “You know you’ll win every time if you call yourself that.”

She kisses his cheek for that. “I know. That’s why I said it. I promise, though, just a few housekeeping items and then sex. Lots and lots and _lots_ of married sex.”

The way he’s looking at her, and how dark his eyes have gotten as they trail down her form, almost makes her change her mind. She is, admittedly, _incredibly_ aroused—has been since she saw him in his tux at the end of the aisle. (And that was dialed up about seventy-five notches when she first saw the ring on his finger.)

But they really need to talk.

She traces the map of his face with her fingers, from his forehead, down the slope of his nose, and softly over his lips. “Honey...I’m moving in to your apartment, right?" 

He looks so confused at the question, that she can’t help but lean in to kiss his furrowed brow. “I’d assumed so...” he says, and...yeah. She supposes that answer may have been obvious. Since they're married.

“Okay, good,” she nods, feeling _great_ about that decision. She’s kind of over the loft anyway. Aside from it being a lonely, lonely place after they broke up, there are also some... _stabby_ memories, when it comes to Thea.

And the thought of her moving in must make him very happy, because his patience is obviously running thin. His mouth is now skimming the curve of her neck, and his fingers are back to work on her buttons. His attempts at distracting her are _almost_ working, but they still have to talk about the most important thing.

She tugs on his bowtie, nerves getting the best of her again. “So, I’m not just your wife now...I’m also...um, a stepmom?” The way his lips and fingers stop what they’re doing tells her she failed at hiding the apprehension in her tone, which she _hates_ , because she’s not nervous about the stepmom thing. Not really, anyway, and so she quickly explains herself before he can assume the worst. “I _love_ William so, so much. And I love watching you as a dad and I love watching you two together… but…how will this work? How do we do this dad-and-stepmom thing together? What do we do about parenting decisions? Is that something you want to do on your own, since you’re, like, the... _actual_ parent? Or do we go halvsies on it? Like, maybe you take the hard decisions, and I take the simple ones. For example...if he can have ice cream after dinner or not—”

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling her close to stop her nervous ramble. “Take a breath.”

She does what she’s told, and then continues, “I know he’s still, understandably, grieving the loss of his mom and I’ll _never ever_ replace her. I don’t want to. But I just wanted you to know that I’m in this with you, okay? I’m totally down to do it all, if you want me to.” She lets out another breath. “Or...yeah. We can also go halvsies.”

He smirks at that, but then his eyes turn serious as he gently presses his lips to her forehead. “You come first, and then William,” he whispers against her skin, before pulling away. They’re laying down on the pillows facing each other, so he tenderly presses his hand to her free cheek, tilting her ever so slightly so she will look him in the eyes. “He is a priority, without a doubt, but you pull rank. Because if we— _you and me_ —are not solid and in this together, in every way, this won’t work. I can’t do this without you. I don’t _want_ to do this without you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she answers, giving him a small smile. “No halvsies.”

He presses his lips to her mouth softly again and it’s _this_ kiss, in particular, that feels like a vow in itself. “Before, I said I couldn’t pick a favorite part from today, because there were too many...”

“It was the best, _best_ day.”

He smiles. “It was. But, I know mine now.” His thumb skims softly over her lip, and she kisses it before it’s gone. “My favorite thing about today was that we became...a family. You were always my family, and so was Thea, but it hasn’t felt like I’ve had a true, official family since my parents died.”

At his words, the love that swells up inside her for this man feels almost too big for her heart. Because this man, this darling husband of hers, deserves that family he’s wished for and _more._ A family who will protect him and love him and never, ever leave him, no matter his past sins or future fears. And she considers it a privilege that _she_ is it _._  

There’s no use in trying to hold back tears, because they are flowing freely down her cheeks. So she kisses him a few times, and echoes his sentiment. “Yeah, that’s my favorite part about today too.”

She knows vehemently that she will like this next stage of life, this next phase of marriage _._ Her hesitation before was not about union itself; it was more about the wedding and the risk of losing everything she loves—most importantly, _him_. But the idea of married life with Oliver for the rest of her days is so completely wonderful to think about, because she knows how wonderful _non-_ married life was like with him.

There is something so sacred and remarkable about knowing things about each other that no one else will ever learn. It is the little things in their day to day lives, when they’re at their purest forms, that she covets and reveres so intensely. She’s giddy about the fact that their official union will only amp that up.

Oliver is the only one who knows that she likes to eat Cheerios in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep, and that she bunches her pajamas under her pillow in the morning, instead of putting them back in her dresser. He learned the hard way that she _has_ to have maple syrup warmed up before drizzling it on his divine homemade French toast _or else_ (because if it’s cold, then what’s the point?)

She knows the fastest way to get Oliver to cook something—even when it’s really late and he’s tired—is to threaten to make microwaved nachos for dinner. She knows about the special pair of green socks he only wears on press conference days, and that he’s an absolute _nut_ about decorative pillows and where they should be placed on the freshly-made bed. And she is very familiar with the particular brand of spearmint toothpaste he likes, because she’s tasted it on him a million times.

She’s _his_ and he is _her’s_. For all of eternity.

His eager hands pull her from her thoughts. “Okay, is that it for the housekeeping agenda?” he asks, tongue teasing the skin below her ear as he (finally) successfully unbuttons the entire back of her dress. “My lovely, sexy, _gorgeous_ wife?”

And...yup. That does it. That ends all of the patience she was barely holding on to, because Celebratory Married Sex is now at the _top_ of her agenda. Actually, it’s the _only_ thing on her agenda.

She gasps when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Uh…”

“Is that a yes?”

He now has her dress pulled down to her waist and his mouth trailing _ever_ so slowly to her breasts.

She gasps when his mouth gets there, and cards her fingers through his hair to keep him in place. “Yeah, I think that was it,” she says, voice breathy and high. “Well, I was going to—oh! honey, keep doing that—tell you that... _ohhh yes._..my mom is trying to make William call her _Glam_ ma, not Grandma—”

“Felicity?”

“Hmm?”

“Can that be on tomorrow’s agenda?”

“Yup. A-okay. Totally down with that plan.” She tugs off his bowtie. “Okay. Now go back to what you were doing before with your tong—”

He does.

.

.

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I always appreciate comments, if you care to leave one. Thanks for reading!


End file.
